


The Avant Garde Movement of Feeling

by Pathologies



Series: One Shot October [2]
Category: Sam & Max (Comics)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, but angst in only the way sam and max can be, know what i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27279613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pathologies/pseuds/Pathologies
Summary: Sam has a question.
Relationships: Max/Sam (Sam & Max)
Series: One Shot October [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991770
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	The Avant Garde Movement of Feeling

“Hey little buddy,” Sam was finishing off a stick off chocolate-covered ice cream.

Max was staring into a void only he could see, “What is it Sam?”

  
“You ever...just think about crying?” asked the dog.

Blink. Then Max’s ever-present grin widened, “Why sure I think about crying all the time!”

“Other people crying?” Sam stared at the peeking edge of wood in his soft serve.

Max hopped into the spinning chair opposite Sam, “What else is there?”

The dog shrugged, “Eh...when I said crying...” he lapped at the chocolate coating, “Was kind of hoping you were talking about yourself?”

It was hard to tell was Max was feeling, but Sam had decoded the certain ways in which the lagomorph moved, the positioning of his beady void eyes to decipher what the little guy was thinking. The relaxing posture, the upper droop of the ears...Max was confused. He asked, “Sam what the hell are you on? Why in the Gavrilo Princip would I need to do that?”

The dog let air escape between his lips, “Everybody does it. When I was a wee pup I stubbed my toe and I cried a bit.”

“Sam,” he spun in the chair, “People say stuff like ‘everybody does that’. Like hiding their tax returns in Panama, but that’s only a white people thing, Sam! Don’t let yourself be fooled by some monopoly on emotion and think it’s universal, silly!”

“Max...” Sam didn’t bother lecturing the lagomorph on most things. He thought what he wanted to thought. The vanilla was dripping into his mouth, the chocolate waxy. He shrugged, “I guess you don’t need to worry about it, little buddy.”

“Then why the hell did you waste two whole minutes about it?” asked Max.

Sam leaned back, licking up the vanilla residue off the wood, “You just make me wonder, little buddy.”

“You make me wonder too, Sam,” replied Max.

It was a bad idea to press onward. From the way he looked upward, Max was in his own world. Still, he had to get up and ask, “If you don’t cry, you ever just feel the full spectrum of emotion all at once?”

“All the time, Sam,” Max was looking at him. Black eyes meeting black eyes. Now Max was on his desk, his head right in his space, “Let me meet your inquiry with my own: if I was gone, would you cry?”

Sam felt an odd sting. Maybe because for someone who rarely expressed emotions like most people, he knew how to reach yours.

The dog gently gripped the sides of the lagomorph’s head, gently rubbing circles under his ears, “Like a baby falling off the artificial teat at the zoo, Max.”


End file.
